


No Words to Disrupt Us

by Vodid



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 05:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21351265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodid/pseuds/Vodid
Summary: Prowl is asked out on a date with Jazz, but is not sure he can abandon his duties.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	No Words to Disrupt Us

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something to commemorate my 5 years of writing, and decided to post one of the many drabbles I have stored away. This one is inspired by a very old poem called "Peaceful Autumn Breeze" I wrote when I was 11 years old. It was absolutely terrible and I probably threw it out years ago, but I always think about it when fall comes around.

Being on Earth for only a short amount of time now meant the Autobots haven't explored all the planet had to offer, especially having been caught up in their war.

For Prowl, he had barely even traveled as much as his subordinates, caught up in work far too great to neglect with something as insignificant to him as a vacation.

It was upon Jazz's constant insistence that he step away from the stack of datapads upon his desk and leave his office. Leave the Ark. Leave the area.

Prowl had refused to go too far from the Ark however, opting to stay within a ten mile radius. He could not risk being out of the Ark's driving range in case of an emergency.

Jazz agreed with his terms, and called it a date. Then he proceeded to leave Prowl's office with a smug look on his faceplates, giving the SIC no time to respond.

He hadn't even accepted the offer, but Prowl found that as much as he expected himself to, he couldn't dread his time outside of the Ark. Perhaps it was because no other mech would accompany them? Because it will possibly nice and quiet where they were going?

Or was it being with Jazz alone he was looking forward to?

Was Jazz going to treat it as a silly date as he had said, or truly just a time to help Prowl relax?

With the Decepticons having gone silent the past couple Earth weeks, the Autobots have been given a break.

Prowl was honestly terrified of the idea of a break. He did not want to let himself slack, lower his guard, or anything that might cost the Autobots the war should the Decepticons decide to strike.

So he treated every orn as he always had. With lots of work and barely leaving his office due to such work.

Jazz found that to be torture for Prowl and took it upon himself to ensure Prowl got quality time without all those datapads and sought to bring the tactician out of his office.

And so Prowl was going on a date with Jazz.

The SIC left his quarters at the same time as he always had; extremely early in the orn as to avoid crowds in the rec. room where he retrieved the first ration of the day.

Yet halfway through the rec. room, he paused.

He did not know when Jazz wished to take him on said date. Not which day, or what time.

Blasted mech did that on purpose.

Perhaps to surprise Prowl. He sighed and continued on his way to grab a cube of energon. He sat down at a corner table, rather than leave with his energon and consume it in his office.

Being in such a large yet quiet room granted him more tranquility than his office. Was that because it is normally a very loud and crowded room? Is it the space? The low hum of the energon dispensers keeping their fuel warm and fresh?

The SIC couldn't say.

He finished his cube at a slow pace, and let it settle for a few kliks before deciding to finally leave the rec. room. He had work to do.

But for some reason, he could not find himself to walk with purpose to his office. It was like he was walking with ...reluctance? Did he not want to work?

Prowl quickly ran a diagnostic of his systems, making sure everything was running fine before deciding perhaps he was finally feeling exhausted from having no breaks, while every other Autobot sat back and relaxed.

That couldn't be right? There have been periods like this in the war, and he felt fine?

Was it because the numbers of the Autobots were smaller, thus everyone was closer, making him feel excluded?

Yet Prowl was not close with them. He continued to maintain the formality and distance of a military commander, and did not actively seek to create personal relationships with mechs. He did this by secluding himself in his office.

Wording it as such in his helm only served to make his life on the Ark sound depressing, and he had come to understand why Jazz openly disproved of his isolation.

Primus, perhaps he really did need that break.

Prowl stopped in front of his office door, servo inches away from the control pad. He did not want to open his door and see the stack of datapads waiting for him.

He let his servo drop to his side and stared at the controls for a klik.

He should go find Jazz, figure out when he wished to go on that… date. Prowl never thought he would go against regulations by courting a subordinate, but Jazz was his friend, right? He could say they were simply hanging out?

But when does Prowl ever hang out with somebody?

All the more reason to, Prowl shuttered his optics and made his decision. He turned away from his office and headed back down the corridor, clearing his schedule for the day.

He did not know where to find Jazz, but thought the rec. room would be the best place to look first.

There were a few mechs filling the rec. room when Prowl returned, all noticing him.

Seated next to Bumblebee at a table to the far left was Jazz, visor clearly trained on Prowl.

The TIC and his Spec Ops agent exchanged a couple more words, the former clearly poised to get up from the table. He nodded his helm in farewell and made his way to Prowl.

The two promptly left the rec. room and made their way down the halls of the Ark, ignoring any mechs noticing the SIC out of his office.

They walked in complete silence, yet it was a comfortable silence.

Prowl picked up on how instead of surprising him, Jazz had let him choose when to go out. He was letting him go on his own accord, as to not have him dread for their time together.

He very much appreciated the gesture, and already felt himself relax in his companion's presence.

Was this truly a date, or just a time to release his frustrations with a companion? Jazz was known for being the shoulder many mechs could lean on, perhaps he was trying to do the same for Prowl?

Prowl did not wish to ask. He found that he did not want to know the answer, and opted to simply enjoy his time with one of his few true friends.

Being secluded meant Prowl did not build very strong relationships with the mechs he commanded. He still did not know if that was for the best. While it made ordering mechs into danger and possibly their deaths a little easier, it also made them see him as cold and sparkless.

Prowl vented.

A nudge on his arm brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked to Jazz questioningly. The mech in question did not say anything as he transformed down into his alt. mode.

Right. They were standing at the entrance of the Ark. They could start driving now.

Prowl followed suit, transforming into his much more bulky and durable enforcers alt. mode. As soon as the last plate clicked into place, Jazz started driving, and Prowl raced to follow into the dark.

He had no idea where Jazz was leading him, but trusted it would be quiet and relaxing.

They drove on for what seemed like hours, yet it had only been fifteen minutes before Jazz veered off the road and up a grass hill. Prowl grunted at the sudden change in road, switching to all wheel drive. Thank Primus for enforcers alt. modes.

Jazz soon transformed before he had to start struggling to get up the grassy hill, and Prowl had done likewise. The TIC waited patiently for Prowl to transform, visor trained on him. His faceplates were devoid of emotion.

Where Prowl hid behind a mask of stoicism, Jazz hid behind his own mask of emotions. The mech was truly emotionally drained and troubled, letting his mask fall on this hill with Prowl.

Prowl fought to keep his gaze from becoming sympathetic, knowing his friend hated pity.

They continued until they reached the end of the hill marked by a cliff face that continued higher. They did not bother to reach the top of this hill, and settled on the grass where they were, looking out at the scenery below.

Their hipplates touched as they sat. Prowl had one leg stretched out, the other having the knee brought up and elbow resting upon it. His opposite servo held his weight. Jazz adopted a similar position and let himself relax.

Prowl vented. It was peacefully quiet, and no other bots were out here to interrupt that pre-dawn silence they enjoyed. It was a wonderful break from the constant pranks from the twins, noisy rec. room and stressful office. 

The moon and stars shone brightly with the lack of light pollution, barely providing enough light to see the trees below. The sun still hadn't risen, the soft glow of the star barely licking the east horizon. 

It was the start of a seasonal change for the planet. One of the four seasons called autumn. In autumn, most of the trees' leaves become a variety of warm colors and fall off, coating the ground with a brown crunchy blanket.

The air grew cool and crisp during this season, brought along by a breeze.

One blew by, and Prowl found himself leaning towards Jazz for warmth despite both knowing the breeze barely affected his systems, yet Jazz leaned back so their shoulders pressed together.

The trees below were hit with the wind, the sound of the leaves rustling music to Prowl's audios, the distant movement feeling very pleasant to his doorwings.

Prowl shifted his position, laying a servo flat on his thigh. He let his doorwings sag a little on his back, letting them relax from the tight posture he typically had them in.

In response, Jazz lowered his helm onto Prowl's shoulder, and slipped his servo into the tactician's, lacing their digits.

Another breeze blew by, and it traveled down to the trees to rustle them once more. There were no birds to be heard yet, only the sound of the trees touched their audios.

Prowl let himself melt against Jazz's form, having his companion take some of his weight.

They held this position for many minutes, and didn't dare break the silence with words. Only listened to the sounds of their systems and the trees.

Soon, the sun started rising and the birds sang. But the wind still blew, still rustled those trees, and still offered that tranquility Prowl so desperately sought out an hour ago.

Prowl squeezed Jazz's servo, and he squeezed back, letting more of his weight press against Prowl.

He could stay here all day, and hoped Jazz wanted the same.

His answer was very clear after an hour went by. They were still pressed together, holding servos and watching the trees below. Jazz's visor was dim, only half aware but still watching as the colors became visible to them with the increasing light.

Yellows, oranges, reds, browns and a couple greens were mashed together in the forest as a beautiful painting, brought out by the bright sunrise.

Prowl vented and offlined his optics at the next breeze to pass over him, doorwings twitching with the cool air hitting him. He counted the seconds before the same wind tangled itself into the leaves, creating the rustle he quickly grew to love.

Jazz removed himself from Prowl's shoulder and they looked at each other for a moment.

Prowl let himself smile.

Then lean forward, and continue to lean forward until his lips met Jazz's that were warm enough to greatly contrast the cool air around them. Jazz's lips eagerly melted into his.

The SIC disregarded the sudden nagging in his processor about the protocols he was breaking with this kiss. It was unprofessional, improper, unbecoming.

Yet Prowl did not care. In fact, he brought up his servos to grasp Jazz’s face and deepened the kiss.

When they had parted their lips, they pressed their forehelms together and remained in the position until the rising sun was no longer a deep orange.


End file.
